


Aim For The Heart

by LunaTantabus, MilknHoney02



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Ending, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, POV Original Female Character, Tragic Romance, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 19:39:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18483016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaTantabus/pseuds/LunaTantabus, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilknHoney02/pseuds/MilknHoney02
Summary: When a deadly little lady meets a tough cowboy and joins him on the messy and wild adventures of the van der linde gang.





	1. Chapter 1

My chest seared with red hot fire, blood soaking my tattered white button-down. The snow numbed my limbs and had me paralyzed. My poor bedraggled lungs spastically scrambled for air, a shaky breath leaving my mouth in a puff of steam. My fingers curled for something to keep me in this world, but only fistfulls of snow were at my grasp. I lurched to my side, heaving a gurgled cough. Blood spilled on the snow, sinking beneath its chilly surface to melt the snow below it, turning everything around it into a magnificent scarlet.

My horse, long since lost, and I let a whimper out at the idea of losing him. My fading mind thinks back to the grand price over my head, and the thrumming sound of the bounty hunters’ horses hooves. They now lay stiff beside me, in scattered piles. It all seems pointless now, fighting back. I shot all that came, including their horses. But the last bounty hunter managed a bullet in return, before I granted him an empty hole between the eyes, letting him fall dead. Now I lay here waiting for the inevitable.

 _This is the end,_ I thought.

A faint whinny in the background called to my ever-fading sanity. Barely breathing, I turn my head, praying my dear horse to be there, but only to see a dark figure on a sleek white horse. I thought to the famous painting that heralded the telltale sign of death.

“I looked and saw a man on a pale horse, and lo and behold, the riders name was Death.” The man was right. Death is coming, and he indeed rode a pale horse.

On pure instinct, I reached for the revolver in my leather holster, and aimed it at my ever approaching doom. I’m not ready. I won’t go without a fight. My brows furrow as more of him appear, walking side by side. My vision floods with hot tears desperately trying to keep my eyes from freezing over completely, and I take no time in shooting at all three of them. Smoke leaves the end of the freezing barrel, and take no time in reloading and shooting until I have no bullets left. They were all used on the bodies all around me. I let out a frustrated groan as he continues to approach, and throw the revolver, forcing myself to crawl towards the closest body and reach for his gun.

But it was too late.

I hear two feet drop onto the ground behind me, and a shattered groan escapes my frostbit lips. The crunching of snow underneath his boots echoed louder, until they come to a halt. I hear a faint “Christ alive,” in a hushed, smoky voice.

This is not Death. I thought to myself.

The footsteps fade to my side, and I tilted my head to see the dark figure of a man inspecting the bodies around me. His figure illuminated by the light of the Moon. “Bounty hunters, eh? ‘Thousand dollars, for such a little lady?” He chided. “They didn’t have a chance, did they? Heh. Not even the horses” He bends down to my level, his leather boots planted firmly in the snow.

“Fuck off,” I hiss.

A chuckle leaves his lips, “Not very polite are ya’, miss? Would you rather me leave you to the wolves?”

Just like on cue, the faint howls of a pack of wolves is heard not very far off into the distance.

“Then, kill me,” I spit, flipping over on my back. I finally lock eyes with the mysterious stranger. His eyes are squinted against the nights wind, but I still caught a glimpse of the oceans worth of color in thick bands around his growing pupils. The small stubble around his face stretched to a small smirk.

“You’re worth more alive.” He mumbles as he reaches for the rope clipped to his belt, and wastes no time in wrapping it around me. I don’t have time to squirm my way out as I feel the coarse fibres tighten around my waist. He’s had practice with this, surely. He’s a bounty hunter. He’s going to turn me in for what I’m worth.

“Where’s the rest of you, I saw three of you.” I mutter, masking the undeniable panic that overwhelms me.

A rumbling chuckle came from his chest as he picks me easily off the snowy ground. “Three of me? Huh. No wonder you didn’t hit me. The blood loss must be gettin’ to yer’ head, little missy.”

You moan in pain as his rough hands let your wound reopen, and you feel blood trickle down your chest, and likely onto his gloved hands.

“Nasty wound you got there.” He walks with me thrown over his shoulder, and I get a glimpse of the three limp bodies I was once apart of, laying in a pool of my own blood where I layed suffering for hours. I wondered why God kept me alive for so long, if this man, this bounty hunter, was meant to find me.

“Up you go.” He places me on the backside of the white horse, and I grit my teeth as the pain in my chest worsens.

I ponder my painful fate. Perhaps this is all karma for all the lives I’ve taken, all the things I’ve stolen? I’ll likely die a slow death, slowly losing blood and oxygen, until my willpower is gone and I’m left with nothing but my regrets and shame at my capture. I chuckled quietly to myself at the thought. “Even the Lord above knows that revenge is best served cold.”

The man jumps up onto the horse and we start moving. Soon enough we're out of the blustering mountains and the snow is replaced with patches of green grass. It's warmer, which I find mildly comforting. The last scraps of Mother Earth’s beauty I take in before I’m likely at the end of a rope, or just the end in general. The ride is silent, other than the occasional townsmen who murmer congratulations to my captor, or insults to me. I figured I'd have more to say, but even opening my mouth is a struggle with the burning hole in my lungs. I'm usually one to express my opinion.

Maybe I could die now, and get the last laugh, he can’t turn me in dead.

I smiled at the idea, how I would literally die out of petty revenge. Giving out a misty sigh, I let my head fall limp, and feel the warmth of the horse beneath me as I give in to the comforting darkness.

*

A sharp inhale of breath courses through my chest, and a jab of pain in my chest makes me clench at the blanket resting on my body. The series of events leading up to this replayed in my head, and I hold a hand to my chest, remembering the bullet in question. In place of the bare breast and bullet, is a long bandage wrapped around my chest, and the blood that once soaked my skin is long cleansed.

  
I’m… not dead. I think to myself. 

  
My eyes dart around my surroundings, realizing I’m in a small cot underneath a tent. All around me are many other tents, lanterns sitting idly on the ground, illuminating a small camp. 

  
I’m not in jail either. Where did that man take me? Is he in a gang, did he take me to their hideout? What are they going to do to me when they know I’m awake? I shivered at the thought, knowing full well what some men were willing to do.

  
I throw both legs over the bed, picking up my clothes that sit on a small counter next to the bed. Everything but my shirt is there. I don’t give it much thought as I pull up my pair of dirty old jeans up my legs, then push my feet into my boots. I also realize the throwing knives I’ve had tucked into my boot are gone, so I'll have to be quiet if I hope to get out of here. Right now, my only worry is to get out of this camp without anyone noticing.  
As soon as I stand, a shooting pain overwhelms me, and I have to take a moment to gather my breath. The wound still has the fire it did when it first arrived. I force myself back to my feet, and successfully moved, getting a few feet or so before I have to brace against a tree for support. Blood rushing to my head and I stare blankly as I feel my vision blur. The world is spinning. My mouth is parched. I force a dry swallow, and the dusty feeling sinks deep in my throat. My hazey green eyes search for something to quench my thirst, and I soon spot a small trough full of water. A few horses stand tied to poles around it, eating patches of grass off the ground. A bit low, even for me, but it was better than nothing.

  
I stumble to it, my eyes wide to the murky liquid that makes my mouth water. I don't notice the man that approaches me, until he's right in front of me. I nearly scream when I walk into a hard chest, and take a slow step backwards and a ragged exhale as I peer up into wild and haughty blue eyes. I clench my teeth as they rake over my body, stopping on my chest. His fingers lift a brown curl up, and twirl it in his hand before dropping it back at my shoulders.

  
“Well, ain't you a doll?” He taunts. I feel a pit form in my stomach as his teeth peer out from a disturbingly perverted smile.

  
“Micah, leave the girl be.” I look to my right, seeing a tall dark man approach, his eyes glaring at this ‘Micah’ character. He seems to back off, the fear welling in my chest quickly draining as I let out a soft breath of relief. I don't know what it is, but something isn't right about this Micah. Another taunt like that, and I would’ve clawed his face to shreds if he dare touch me again. I'd like to see him smile after that.

  
“Alright,” Micah raises both arms up in the air, giving a playful grin, “Just thought I'd be the gentleman and welcome her to the camp.” His icy eyes turn back to mine, sending a series of shivers down my spine. “Nice to meetcha', doll.” He gives me a quick wink before sauntering further into the camp.

  
“Sorry about him.” I find comfort in the low voice of the new stranger. He keeps his distance, and doesn't let his chocolate eyes fray from mine. I watch as he pulls a small metal canister out of his satchel, presenting it in front of me to take from his gentle grasp.

  
“You must be thirsty, you've bled a lot.” I take it gingerly from his warm hand, clicking my peachy nails against the side, just to make sure it was real. The offering of something as simple as water, seemed like an ethereal blessing. Cupping it from the base I offer a small smile to him before lifting the chill steel to my lips, draining it in seconds. A few drops of water slip from the corners of my mouth. I hear a chuckle from the man, and a faint blush travels across my cheeks as I wipe my mouth with the palm side of my forearm.

  
“Thanks...” I mutter, my voice still trying to revive itself.

  
“Charles.”

  
“Hmm?”

  
“My name is Charles. Thought you might want to know.”

  
I hand him back the canteen. I hum in amusement, “Thank you, Charles.”

  
Despite how trusting he might seem, I feel no need to tell him my name. It’s used as a curse and echoes across the country, and many know it. My face is always masked, so no-one can put a name to my face. I'd prefer to keep it that way.

  
“Are you the one who patched up my wound?” I continue.

  
His eyes seem to finally take notice of the bandage around my chest, “Ah, no, it was one of the ladies. They're asleep, but you'll likely meet them in the morning.”

  
I nod, gazing through the slew of tents, wondering what kind of person stays in each one.

  
“One of the ladies washed your shirt. It should be dry now.” I follow Charles as he leads me to a small pond. A washboard lies crooked against a rock, and a basket full of clothes set beside it. A nearby tree branch hangs a familiar shirt, and I tug it off the branch, throwing it over my head. I wince as I put each arm through the shirt, reminding me of my wound.

Charles takes notice, “You should rest, it'll feel better in the morning.”

  
“Why are you helping me?” 

  
Charles stays silent for a moment, his arms crossed over his chest, the hair not bound in a low ponytail swaying slightly in the warm night zephyr.

  
“It wasn't my decision.” He starts. I blink, watching him through every word. “Arthur insisted, he's not the type of man to let someone die, even if it's a stranger.”

  
“Arthur?” I repeat almost instantly.

  
“The man who brought you here.” Charles clarifies.

  
“Oh…” I murmur, remembering the scruffy man who tied me up and threw me on the back of his horse. “Oh.” I state, my expression turning into a scowl. That's right. He tied me up. He was going to take me to the law and turn me in. It makes sense why he brought me here, and had a kind looking man help me. I'm worth more alive, to quote this ‘Arthur.’

  
My lip quirks upwards, “I appreciate the hospitality, but I'd best be going now. If you don't mind.” I don't allow Charles respond as I turn, spinning on my heel, formulating how to steal one of the horses I saw earlier and get the hell out of here. But yet another wall stands in my way. My hands rest on a hard chest, and I can feel a slow heartbeat under my palm. I clench my teeth. Fuck, there goes my plan.

  
A familiar voice fills my ears. “Where do you think you're goin’, little lady?”

  
I slowly glance upwards, clenching my jaw, finding a smug smile on Arthur's face as he looks down at me. I notice his hand resting casually on the gun in his holster. I let out a nervous chuckle, patting his chest. If only I had my knives, this would be a hell of a lot easier.

  
“Just let her go, Arthur. She isn’t any trouble.” I hear Charles voice behind me, and my hope of freedom grows knowing someone is on my side.

  
“Oh, she'll cause a hell of a lot more trouble if we let her go, Charles.” Arthur answers, keeping an irritatingly calm composure. He continues, knowing I'm listening as well as Charles.

  
“Ya’ see, while you were out, I did a little investigatin’. It didn't take much to find out who those bounty hunters were after, and I have to say, I didn't expect the best knife thrower in the big ol’ wild west to be you...”

  
My heart drops. He knows who I am. He knows how much I'm worth. And now that he has a face to the name, he'll never let me go. And even if I do manage to escape, every person I come across will know my face, and the police will be on my ass the moment I step into town.

  
“...Viper.” Arthur smirks. “Too bad I pulled out your fangs.” He holds up three silver throwing knives, all with the familiar engraving of a viper on the handle of each knife. I grit my teeth.

  
“Viper?” Charles frowns. “The Viper? You're talking about her?”

  
I no longer hide the anger that resonates within, and I let a venomous glare lace my features as I stare up at Arthur.

  
“Mmhmm. Get the rope.”


	2. Bound By Fate

I launch myself into action, kicking Arthur in his shin before turning on my heels to make a run for it. A large hand catches me by my wrist. Growling, I turn to see Arthur, with one leg stuck out rather ungracefully, keeping him balanced.

“A-tuh-tuh-tuh.” Arthur tuts. He keeps a smile, but I can tell by his deadly grip he isn’t very happy.

Thinking quickly on how to escape, I grab Arthur’s arm with both hands and pull, leaning back, and sitting myself down. Arthur’s foot slips from under him, and he falls forward onto his stomach leaving him with mouthful full of dirt. I swerve to pin him from behind. He turns to get on his back, but before he can make another move I twist my body to turn Arthur’s arm backwards. Pulling his arm behind his back with all the force I can muster, I press it up far enough so his elbow touches his black union shirt, while my other hand does its best to push down on the back of his neck, feeling his chin grind into the dirt.

For a moment, my adrenaline slows. They usually pass out if I press hard enough. Panting, I look around. I look to see Charles with his arms crossed over his chest, and what I think is a smirk? My eyes dart behind him, as more people approach, watching us.

“Woah!” I yelp as Arthur takes my moment of distraction to yank me off him. I try to scramble to my feet before Arthur grasps my ankle, pulling me back down to the ground. He quickly straddles me and pins both of my arms above my head. His knees dig into my legs, and I feel his nails dig into my wrists as he gives me an intense look.

He chuckles between breaths, “Nice try, little lady.”

*

Arthur drags me to a post and begins to tie me against it. I take a quick inhale of air as the rope tightens around my chest, hoping it will give me extra room to move. Then, later on I can writhe my way out of these goddamn ropes and get the hell out of here. I feel the extra air in my chest being forced out, barely leaving me any room to breath. I catch Arthur shaking his head and a small chuckle as he continues tying me up.

“You want money, right?” I start, managing to capture the attention of people watching casually behind Arthur as he finishes tying me around a wooden pole in the ground.

“What, you mean this?” My attention turns toward Micah. He rifles through my satchel and pulls out a ten dollar bill.

“No! No, not that, and stay out of my satchel. I know of a place littered with gold, if you let me go, I can take you there.” I plead, going from one pair of eyes to another. Arthur tugs my satchel from Micah’s hands, and tucks the ten dollar bill back into its pockets.

“Yeah, nothing is worth more than the price over your head.” Arthur stands and pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket. The ever approaching sun casts shade over his focused features. His squinted eyes follow the words as he speaks clearly. “Wanted for murder, theft, yada yada yada…” He eyes look down at mine, a smile tugging at his lips.

“‘5,000 dollar reward,’ for bringing you back alive and well.” He shoves the paper back in his pocket, shooing off any onlookers, along with Micah, and a lingering Charles, who I refuse to make eye contact with.

“We've got the alive part,” He puts his weight on one leg, gripping his leather belt with both hands. “Now we've just got to keep you well.”

“So that's your plan?” I start, “Keep me tied up until I'm healed, then take me down to Valentine and hand me over for lump of cash you won't even be able to keep yourself? Seems pointless if you ask me.”

“Money is money. Even if I can't keep all of it, I was still the one who found ya’, and I'm gonna be the one to hand ya’ in. That money's going in my hands.”

“Heh, yeah, can't say I wouldn't do the same if I was in your shoes.” I reply.

“Arthur! What the hell is all this racket?” I look over to a well put together man who steps out of the main tent set up in the middle of the camp.

“Dutch.” Arthur straightens, putting a name to the face. Dutch must be the leader, I think to myself. I watch the vest-clad man saunter to my post. His voice holds a certain gravelly timbre that holds a solid power over, and it seems everybody stopped what they were doing when they heard his thundering voice. His brown eyes dart between me and Arthur, searching for answers.

“Who have you tied up this time?” His voice seems to echo, even though there’s nothing at all in camp for it to echo off of, even in this hamlet of a camp, his voice reverberates through the camp, and from within himself, and through everyone in it, in a boasting thrum that had everyone mentally genuflecting to it. I found the voice calming, uniting. No wonder the Van Der Linde gang was so large.

I'm almost about to answer for Arthur, in hopes of winning over Dutch, in meager hopes this leader might be considerate enough to let me go, but the rustling of a paper being passed to Dutch keeps me quiet. Of course. Soon, the whole camp will know who I am. And it will be impossible winning anyone's trust. They'll see me as a means of getting more money. Dutch's smile widens, and he looks down at me with money signs in his eyes. “5,000… seems our big break came a lot quicker than planned, everyone.” He laughed, patting Arthur on the back in a congratulatory gesture.

“Where'd you find this snake?” Dutch queries, letting his hearty laugh fade as he asks the question. “In the mountains, she was nearly dead before I came across her. Brought her here to get fixed up and then we'll be well off handing her in.” Arthur answers. I bite my tongue. I wish I had died on the back of that horse. It would of saved me such a hassle.

Dutch laughs again. “It must've been fate!” I roll my eyes at his claim.

“Do you mind not talking about me like I'm not here?” I ask, with a poorly feigned polite tone, and a edgy smile. Thankfully catching their attention. “I won't run if you let me go. Hell, I can’t run if you let me go. Have you seen this wound? If you want me to heal, I'd say a bed is preferable to sitting on the ground tied to a pole.” Dutch walks over, and with one forearm casually placed at his knee, he bends down to my level, seeming to almost consider my words.

“Sorry sweetheart,” He starts. I already feel myself sink back in defeat.

“You should get comfy here for the time being. Kieran here will keep you company.” He pats the man's leg that sits next to me, he instantly shoots awake, his eyes darting. His face is drenched in sweat, and his eyes seem to widen in fear as he sees Dutch and Arthur standing over us.

“I-I don’t know nothin’!” This “Kieran” stutters out, pulling his legs closer.

“Relax, boy, we're not here about that.” Dutch reassures casually, giving his leg another pat. Kieran finally takes notice of me, his brows knitting in confusion. “I imagine you two will become great friends,” Dutch comments as he lets out a hearty laugh and stands, walking away, pulling out a cigar to clamp between his teeth as he swaggers to his tent, a beautiful redhead patiently waiting inside of it. Arthur walks away soon after, and I catch him glancing back at me, while I send him nothing but a blank gaze.

 

It's nearing daybreak now, the sun casts a shadow over the trees. My wrists still hurt from how hard Arthur pinned me down. And that little commotion awoke many of the gang members, some of which stand to watch a moment when I attempt to wiggle out of my bonds, but most thankfully don't pay me any mind at all. As if this is a daily occurrence for them.

I look next to me to see Kieran, his head turned away from mine. His shoulders shake, and I hear faint sobs. The faint morning light reaches the boy next to me, glistening off the tears that have soaked his face. I furrow my brows.

“Hey!” I hiss.

“What?!” He snaps, whipping his head around. I recoil in disgust at the snot running down his nose, not being able to be wiped away. His eyes are red from crying, and what I assume is lack of sleep.

“Are you crying?” I ask amused.

He sniffs, pulling some of the snot back in, “Go away.”

“Great idea, does it look like I can?” I indicate the ropes keeping me put. He stays silent, and he seems to have calmed down a little.

“You’re with them, aren’t you?” He starts, “I ain’t stupid. They’re using you to get answers out of me.”

“Oh, yes, that’s it. They’ve tied me to a pole and took all my belongings so I could interrogate you. Rather than using a more efficient means like, say, torture.” I shake my head, “Idiot…”

Kieran stares blankly, “Oh. Well, then, help me escape. They have no right to keep me here, I’m innocent! We should come up with a plan.”

I look back towards him, “You’re cute. Is there a brain inside that thick skull of yours? How long have you been here?”

“T-Two weeks.” He stutters.

“And in that time have you ever noticed the wagon over there?” I nod my head, and he follows my line of vision. “It’s where they store their weapons, their ammo, dynamite, gunpowder. Even if we somehow managed to get out of these ropes without them noticing, we’d be dead before we could even stand.”

Kieran stays silent, processing my words. He turns his head towards me, “But it’s worth a shot, right?!”

“ _You’re_ worth a shot.”

There’s desperation in his eyes, and the tears have started to well up again. I let out a frustrated sigh, “Well, if we go at night and do it silently, we might have a fair chance.”

His eyes brighten in childlike hope. I focus my view onto the ground, trying to think of a way to escape.

“Here, take the spurs off my boots, and use them to cut the rope.” I shift a free leg towards Kieran, and watch as his hand struggles to shrink the solid half-foot of distance between my foot and his hand. The tip of my boot can easily touch his thigh, but the hands bound behind his back struggle fruitlessly to grasp at it.

“I can't… reach it.” Kieran huffs.

“Have you tried using the rope to wear down the tree?” I start, “Or use the tree to wear down the rope?” Kieran gives a whine, slumping back in defeat.

“I tried for a bit. Got a few strings off, they replaced ‘em the morning after.”

I roll my eyes and sigh, pulling my legs back. “Quite the predicament, eh?” My shoulders jostle a slight as I laugh at the dire situation.

“How can you laugh at a time like this? Are you insane?” I giggle slightly harder at his whimpering.

“Just a bit. But I don’t think you should worry. As long as you know what you’re doing, and try your best, things will usually fall into place.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“I’m not. I just have faith that things will be alright, just keep your head on.” _(That’s a pun, kids)_

Kieran gives no response, but closes his eyes and slows his breath to a slow rhythm. I feel he trusts my words enough to believe me. Even if he doesn’t believe the rest of me. I lean my head back, content that I’ve gotten him to stop crying for a while, and I eventually doze off, feeling the pole warm underneath my back.

*

A week has passed. I've gotten to know some of the people here. Charles has been nice enough to give me food and water, despite him knowing my true name, and rather horrendous reputation. I try to extend my stay as long as possible. Reopening my wound as often as possible. To keep me, well, not free, but close enough to it where I can afford escape. A blonde haired girl has been taking care of my wound, and I'm sure it's been healing over the course of the week. A young man named Lenny sometimes comes over to read to me. I've tried to ignore him, too stubborn to enjoy or embrace anything they give me. My rather terrible, and half baked plan. Ignoring the man proved difficult, and ultimately I failed. Because he really does talk a lot, but I've found myself looking forward to our conversations. He’s quite interesting to talk to, and brings up excellent points after reading. He makes the stay here almost bearable. But even when I'm been well taken care of, not including my bonds, the man next to me has gotten the shorter end of the stick. I'm not exactly sure why he was tied up. Any attempts at conversation led to him in tears.

And yesterday I could figure out one of the reasons why. A man named Bill threatened Kieran with a pair of gelding tongs.

“Oh, don’t worry, they’re only balls, boy!” I barely could contain a snicker as I watched the red-hot pair of gelding tongs snap open and shut as Micah tugged his pants down, giggling like a fool the whole time.

Kieran whimpered and squirmed in his bounds, and eventually spilling whatever information they were after.

Now, the next day, he walks around the camp like nothing even happened. I catch him looking over at me occasionally, breaking contact as soon as I notice. I scowl. Coward. Of course he only cares about getting himself free. But why keep him alive? They got what they wanted, so why is he still here?

As if on cue, Charles approaches, noticing my glares towards Kieran. He holds up the mug of water up to my mouth and answers my unspoken question.

“He saved Arthur's life,” He holds a hand under my chin as I drink, and I thank him as he takes a seat next to me.

“They let him stay here, knowing the O'Driscolls would kill him if he went back.”

“He's an O'Driscoll?” I question.

Charles hands me a piece of sliced apple, putting it between my lips. I happily munch on it as I listen.

“Sure doesn't seem like one…” I grumble to myself between bites.

“And you sure don't seem like a wanted criminal.” Charles retorts, and I feel a string of guilt tie at my stomach at my blatant prejudice.

“We've all done some wrong in our life,” He continues, “But I believe everyone deserves a second chance.”

I swallow the apple slice and I study him carefully, “Even me?”

“Yeah, even you. I convinced Dutch to let you prove yourself to the gang. He's agreed to let you tag along on a mission. It's your decision if you decide to turn on us, or just run away. But if you decide to comply, we'll be glad to welcome you into the gang, and we'll overlook your bounty, as long as you can be responsible to pay it off yourself.”

I blink. “Are you serious? They're just going to forgive my bounty just like that?”

“Well, you haven't caused much trouble, and a few people have vouched for you to join the gang. Many of us have been in your position.”

“Oh…” I can't bring myself to say anything. I certainly didn't expect this. I'm presented with two options. Either join the gang or go to jail. I've always been by myself, but it could be interesting to find out where this leads.

“Okay,” I nod. “Cut me free.” I indicate to the knife in his hand, that he has been using to cut the apple into pieces.

“You promise not to run?” Charles doubts.

“If I do, shoot me.” I playfully smirk. Charles doesn't seem to get the joke, he actually seems to take my statement seriously. I roll my eyes. “Promise.”

He throws what remains of the apple core to the horses behind us, and proceeds to saw off my ropes. My shoulders get less and less tense as each rope falls to the ground. I let out a sigh of relief when I'm free. Charles helps me stand, and I make sure to stretch after being put in that position for so long. I notice Charles knife still at his side, and I glance towards what could potentially be my way out. For a split second, I contemplate running. The instinct to run overwhelms me, but no matter how hard I try, I can't force my legs to move. I swallow hard. This is my life now.

I hold out my hand, eyeing Charles expectantly, “My knives.” I say, when Charles does nothing but stare.

“Ah,” Charles smiles compliantly, when he's sure I won't run. He knows if I wanted to, I would have already tried to.

“Arthur has them. He should be over in his tent.” He nods his head back, and I look over his shoulder to the the familiar man sitting on the end of his bed, looking at something down in his hands.

“Right.” I walk a few steps, before slowing. “And Charles? Thanks… you're a good man.”

I don't give him any time to answer as I'm trotting on my way to Arthur's tent. I ignore the stares from some of the other members, smirking at a giddy Lenny that sits reading by a tree. It feels good to finally be out of those ropes. I feel like I can finally breathe. The feeling is gone as soon as it came as I spot what Arthur has in his hands.

I immediately snatch it, “Don't touch that!” I yell, cradling it in my chest. It's a small brown glass vial filled with my most precious asset. It's the one thing that's kept me alive for so long, the thing that makes me known as _‘The Viper.’_

“It's poison, ain’t it? The poison you dip your blades in?” Arthur asks, looking for assurance.

“Venom,” I correct, “Just a tiny vial like this is painfully hard to acquire. Especially handling the snakes myself. Not to mention crafting the anti venom…” I continue when I notice Arthur listening in intently.

“If this particular brew gets in an open wound, there’s not much that can save you, and it takes ages to harvest the anti venom.”

Arthur looked at me in a way that I couldn’t tell if he was going to punch me or pass out.

“How in the hell do you know how to make antivenom?" 

“Experiments...” I mutter.

“Experiments?” Arthur queried, clearly eager to learn my secrets.

“That isn’t an issue for you to know, just know that if you want any chance of survival around snakes, you need me. That’s what I like to do with some of my victims, they know I can be the cause of their salvation, or destruction.” I smirk satisfactory.

“Won't they suffer before they die, though? Wouldn't it just be easier to kill them and be done with it?” I shake my head, “Oh, no, I only use this on people I want to make suffer. I'm not that evil. But often times I use venom just to keep my namesake...”

He chuckles, “Right.”

“Anyway,” I huff, “I came here for my things. My blades, specifically.”

“About that... I think I'll hold onto them for now.” Arthur states, plucking the venom from my hands, and walking to a small bedside table.

“What?!” I say a little louder than I intended, “How am I supposed to protect myself on this mission of yours if you won't give me my weapons?”

“Look, no offense, little lady,” He turns, placing a lit cigar in his mouth, and blowing a thick cloud of smoke into the air, “Since it's only gonna be you and me on this mission, I'd rather you not stab me on the way. Especially after that little trick you pulled when you first got here.”

Arthur notices the look of dissatisfaction on my face; "Don't worry, I won't let anything bad happen to you.” He smirks as smoke blows out of his nostrils.

“I can still strangle you in your sleep,” I clarify.

“I can still turn you in,” He retorts.

I purse my lips. Should've known better than thinking I was free. I'm still a prisoner. Just on a longer leash.

I brush a loose curl out of my face, “Where are we going anyway?”

“Saving an irish prick. You ready?”

“No.”

“Great, let's go.”


	3. Luck Of The Irish

“I’m not riding on the same horse as you, I need Brutus if we're going to get anywhere,” I start. We walk out of the trees that mask horseshoe overlook, and Arthur leads his white horse with a lead, with me walking a few steps in front of him.

“Who’s that?” Arthur questions. I come to a stop and turn to face him.

“My horse. The biggest in the west. He bucked me off in the mountains.”

Arthur purses his lips, “Black shire?”

I lift my hands up to his shoulders, looking into his eyes with my green eyes lighting up, “Yes! You've seen him?”

He knits his brows, obviously surprised by my sudden excitement. “In the mountains. He ran past me. Was gonna go after him until I saw you and your friends. It's a fine horse.” He nods, giving me a small smile while a smug one grows on my face.

“Yeah, well, he's mine.” I assure.

“Not anymore he ain't. Someone prolly captured him and sold him off. If you want him back you're gonna have to buy him.” Arthur squints his eyes at the hot sun slowly making its way across the sky.

I turn to look at Arthur's horse as it shakes its head, her white mane flicking over her head wildly. I sniff, waving away some of the bugs that hover around my face.

“Or we could steal him back,” I shrug. “He _was_ mine to begin with.”

“Aren't you in enough trouble to begin with?” Arthur retorts, gripping his belt. “You sure you want more law after ya’?”

“Oh please, they won't even see us coming.” I say, smiling halfheartedly.

**_10 minutes later…_ **

A bullet streaks past me, and I lean forward, trying to duck below their line of fire. I spur Brutus’ haunches, urging him forward. My hair flicks wildly in the wind, and I feel my eyes begin to water.

“C'mon boy, you got this!” I cry, gripping the makeshift reins. I look to my side to see Arthur right on my tail. He holds a pistol in his left hand, and a rein in the other. He turns to shoot at the few officers that chase after us, returning the gunfire.

“You couldn’t wait ‘till after dark?!” I hear Arthur chastise.

“Into the trees!” I reply, ignoring his criticism, hopefully loud enough for him to hear.

I pull hard on the rein, and make a sharp turn into the thick forest. Small twigs whip at my cheeks, and I focus all my attention on avoiding the small trees that stand in my way. I turn around long enough to notice Arthur isn't anywhere in sight.

“Arthur?!” I shout, slowing to a stop.

I look in all directions, trying to spot him. I soon hear gunshots not very far off into the distance. I may have lost them, but they're still hot on Arthur's trail. I could easily escape right now, I ponder. With Arthur dead or arrested, that'll give me enough time to make a run for it. I could catch a ship out of the state, make a life somewhere else, where the Van der Linde gang isn't after me, where the law isn't after me.

I take a deep breath, looking up into the trees. The sun peeks through the bright green leaves that rustle in the cool wind. My eyes roll back open. No. I can't just leave him. As funny as it would be, I got him into this mess. Plus, he's still got my knives. I'm not going anywhere without my knives.

I let out an exasperated sigh, and spur Brutus back to a trot, heading across the small stream, and up towards the source of the gunfire. The gunfire quiets. I come to a stop.

_If this motherfucker died after one job, I swear to all fuck._

I continue down the road, following the tracks until they cease, turning into a small property where a small cabin resides. My eyes widen as I spot an officer pointing a gun at Arthur, who holds up his hands in defeat.

I curse to myself as I dismount Brutus, giving him an offhand pat. His dissapears over the horizon, and I gingerly place one foot in front of the other. I approach one of the corpes, and unsheathe the hunting knife from it's holster. The body is still warm, and I recoil as my fingers brush something wet. Blood. I wipe it off against my jeans and continue my silent stalk. I'm surprised Arthur lasted this long against so many officers. I counted at least ten, maybe more. He's good in a fight, I'll have to remind myself of that if I get on his bad side.

I make eye contact with Arthur, and I wave my hands to keep him talking.

“Wait, please!” Arthur pleads, “I've gotta’ wife, and kids! They need me!”

“You mean that girl that was with you?” The officer questions. Arthur glances back at me, and I motion him to continue.

He gives the officer a cheeky smile, “Yeah, that's her. My wife. Pretty little thing, isn't she? If not a bit stubborn.” Arthur exclaims.

I roll my eyes, nearly letting out an “Ugh” of exasperation. I grip the hilt of my knife as I close in on the officer, I raise my arm to strike, but an inconveniently placed stick crunched under my foot, and the officer whips around to point his copper revolver at my head. I squint my eyes shut, preparing for the worse.

A long second passes, and I open one eye when I realize I'm not dead. I instead see Arthur with one arm wrapped tight around the officer's neck from behind. Arthur struggles to keep hold of the officers wrist to keep him from aiming his revolver at either of us.

“Kill him!” Arthur yells between grunts.

I snap out of my gaze, and approach the struggling pair. I keep my knife at my side, ready for use. Arthur recoils in pain as the officer headbutts him, and I stare in shock as the officer sprints out of the property. Arthur holds his bleeding nose, and I take no time in aiming at the back of the officers head and flinging the knife. He soon slows to a stop, dropping to his knees, and then landing on the ground with a loud thud. I finally let go of the breath I've been holding in, and rush to Arthur's side.

“You alright?” I ask, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He shrugs it off, “Fine.”

I pull a handkerchief out of my pocket, and hold it up to Arthur, “Here.”

He stares oddly at me for a second, his gaze laced in suspicion and I roll my eyes. Jesus, I just saved your life, and you still don't trust me?

"Just take it," I command, putting it forcefully in his hand.

He mutters a thanks and hangs his head back, holding his nose to stop more blood from flowing. "Tilt your head forward, so you don't end up swallowing your own blood." I say to him, ignoring his look of distrust, I turn, taking notice of the bodies scattered here and there, and smile satisfactorily at the small rustle of fabric that indicated arthur followed my advice. 

“You handled yourself well.”

“Yeah, would've been fine if I had more bullets, but I left my other guns on my horse. She ran off somewhere...” Arthur wipes away the remaining blood that rests under his nose.

I whistle with two of my fingers, and soon enough two pairs of hooves is heard galloping toward us.

“Wasn't that far away,” I start, “Let's go, we've wasted enough time already.”

I nod at Arthur and turn towards Brutus as he chews on a patch of grass.

“Yeah, just give me a minute, wanna see if they have anything valuable.” Arthur walks around and searches the bodies that litter the place. I reach out for Brutus, and cradle his head close to my chest. I pet him slowly, and it seems to calm not only his but also my fast beating heart.

“You're okay,” I murmur, loud enough for only him to hear.

“Ready?” I turn to see Arthur on his horse, slowly maneuvering his way towards me. I clear my throat and place my foot into the stirrup, throwing my free leg over. I brush the hair out of my face as I adjust myself into the saddle.

“Yeah, let's get out of here.”

“Wait,” Arthur stops me. Holding out something in his hands.

“Here, you should have it.” I take it, holding it in my hands, my thumb tracing my leather engraved initials.

“My satchel…” I grin, wrapping it around my chest, where it belongs. I hear the line of cased venom vials clink in the bag, that rest alonside my other belongings.

“Thank you, Arthur.”

He nods, looking away, “Sure.”

*

The ride is smooth. Brutus is content again. Apparently this “Sean” guy was captured by bounty hunters, and we’re going to Blackwater to save him. It’s not anything I haven’t dealt with before, so this is going to be a fairly easy job for me. I can't help but bear a smile on my features. I weigh my knives in my hand. It feels good having them back again. That old dagger I pulled off one of the officers was horrific. I had to use a lot more force just to get it to reach as far as hitting the back of that officers head. My knives are much better. Sharp, and fast. Can be used close, or from a distance. Aiming is a piece of cake, too. It's like the knife follows my line of sight exactly, and I barely have to lift an arm to get it where I want it to go. They were made for my hands and my hands alone.

We soon approach a clearing, it’s a small camp filled with what I assume are bounty hunters. A man already stands there with his binoculars out, and I assume he's another member of the gang.

Arthur speaks up, “Javier did some scouting ahead. These guys are planning to turn Sean in for a bounty in Blackwater.”

I hop off my horse, slapping his behind as he scutters off. I nod in acknowledgment of the man standing idly by, whose name I now know as Javier. He grips his belt as he stares in what I can only assume is resentment. Ignoring him, I pull out my binoculars to get a closer look. They’re armed, but there aren’t many of them. Stealth would be pretty easy, the use of my knives would be silent and quick.

I spot a man hanging upside down from a tree, his arms dangling. Sean. He’s surrounded by guards, who he seems to be teasing. His laugh is cut short as one of the guards lands a hard punch to Sean's gut, and I recoil at the expression of pain overwhelming his feature.

“Jesus, this guy must be a hit.” I make a small smirk while looking over at Arthur, who opens his mouth to say something, but closes it and turns back to his binoculars. I smirk to myself as I clear my throat and look back at my own binoculars. 

“So, how are we going to handle this?” I ask, stuffing my binoculars back into my satchel and turning back to Arthur as he pulls his guns off his horse.

“I’d say you and Javier sneak up on them and get as many as you can, then we finish ‘em off with guns once the numbers die down.” His horse scurries off.

“Easy enough, you ready?” I ask, turning to Javier, who eyes me with poorly-disguised distaste. I bite the inside of my cheek as I pull my knives out, and stuff a few vials of venom into my belt holders.

“Let's go.” Javier mumbles, and I am quick to follow him down the hill.

We tread slowly to the base of the valley, the guards scarcely placed along another trail up to what must be their camp. I hear Seans faint laughing echo throughout the valley, it sounded like he was not at all phased by the predicament he was in. Is he trying to get himself killed?

I hear Sean yell, in a thick irish accent, “Ah, I thought we were just havin’ fun?!”

I crouch down to the underbrush next to Javier, peeking out to get a closer view of the camp. There's a guard a few feet ahead of us, isolated. I grip one of my knives in my hand, ready to take him down.

“I got him-” I start, aiming at the guards head.

He drops before I even get a chance. I look over at Javier, putting my arm down.

“Nice shot…” I mutter, trying to mask my disappointment.

Javier sneaks out of cover to retrieve his knife, and I am quick to walk up behind the closest guard to take him out. I jab my knife into his jugular, wrapping my arm around his torso so he doesn't struggle. He falls to his knees as he chokes on his blood. I smirk triumphantly over at Javier, who doesn't seem at all impressed by my work.

“Nice job being quiet,” He hisses. I furrow my brows and quickly realize I'm standing and am in full vision of all the guards. I stand in shock as one of the guards yells and quickly points their revolver at me. Shit. I recoil when one of the men get his brains blown out, and when he drops, I see Arthur puttting his revolver down. 

As the men stand there in shock, I take one of men hostage by twisting his arms behind his back, and holding my gun up to his head. The men suddenly disperse, yelling, and scrambling to find cover. Arthur manages to shoot most of them, but a few of them manage to avoid their line of fire long enough to stay alive. I shoot the man held in my arms when I’ve backed up far enough to reach cover. I push him away and sit on my back, taking a deep breath. I take no time in aiming out in front of me and shooting the two men who have their attention on Arthur. I lean back, quickly reloading, and stay silent, listening and watching for any other men to come running from any direction. I let the tension release from my shoulders when I hear Arthur yelling it’s all clear.

I stand, nodding at Javier who still seems disappointed in my actions. I approah Arthur, who stands in front of a certain idiot redhead hanging upside down by his feet, giggling like a fool.

“This him?” I ask Arthur as he whistles for his horse.

“Yep.”

I nod, eyeing Sean carefully. He smiles up at me, his wild green eyes squinting in the sun, "Gosh, you sure are all tied up." I say, grinning. Sean laughs maniacally, giving me one of the biggest grins I've ever seen. Care to help me down, lass?”

I return the smile, “Sure, okay, on the count of three, yeah?”

I ready my knife in my hand and reach for the rope wrapped tightly around Sean’s feet. I eye where I should cut. The rope is connected to the tree trunk, and then flung around one of the upper branches allowing Sean to hang above the ground.

“Where did Arthur find such a lovely lass like you?” Sean questions.

“One…” I start, taking a step over to the rope. I ready my knife.

“Ah, the scratches on yer’ face must be when ye’ fell from heaven-”

I take no time in cutting through the rope, smiling as I hear a satisfying thud, followed by a groan. I look over my shoulder to see Sean sprawled awkwardly on the ground, his nose scrunched in agony.

I hear Arthur chuckle at Sean, and Sean lets out a hearty laugh, rolling onto his back, “Oh, she’s a keeper, Arthur!”

I roll my eyes, and turning to approach Brutus. Javier is looting some of the corpses, shoving whatever valuables he can find into his pocket.

“Well, there’s that,” Arthur huffs. He turns, taking notice of Sean, “Sean! Get up, we’ve gotta go before any more of em’ come.”

Sean listens, pulling himself to his feet. He cracks his neck while his eyes land on mine. Before I can react, he reaches out for my hand and gives it a kiss, looking up at me with his shining green eyes. “And who is this lass?”

I cut him off by ripping my hand out of his, “You’re welcome,” I emphasize. A simple thank you would’ve been fine, you horny irish bastard.

I turn around, whistling for my horse. Brutus and Arthur’s horse run side by side toward us, and I quickly run towards Brutus and hoist myself onto his back. I look down at Sean as he stumbles to my horse, apparently not fully recovered from being upside down, wearing one of the dumbest grins I've ever seen.

“With me!” Arthur yells, stopping Sean in his tracks. I return Sean’s cheeky smile as he walks towards Arthur’s horse and pulls himself up behind him.

“We’ll stay at Blackwater for the night, get some rest,” Arthur starts, turning.

I allow my horse to follow him.

“Javier, you head back to camp and tell em’ we got Sean!” I watch as Javier rides off into the distance, pursing my lips. He doesn't like me very much, does he?

“I missed you, Arthur,” Sean starts as we pick up speed and head to Blackwater.

“I thought I was a goner, that was until an angel appeared.” Sean glances over at me and flashes me a wink, I roll my eyes and spur my horse ahead.


	4. Go To Sleep

We reach Blackwater without any issues. Other than dealing with Sean’s constant chatter. But I'm seriously having second thoughts about saving this guy. We should've left him to be sent off to jail. I inhale to prepare for a sigh, when I hear sean pipe up again,

“Y’know, my Da and I-”

“Sean,” I respond in the politest voice I can muster. “As much as I’d love to hear about your ‘Da,’ we’re all very tired, so why don’t you save it for tomorrow, okay?”

Sean stays silent for a moment, and I almost let relief overcome me, but yet again Sean finds another topic to talk about. “Y’know, we should have a drink sometime, you’re just my type-”

“Shut your big mouth, you irish bastard.” Arthur pipes in, quieting Sean. Me and Arthur share a compliant look, if only for a second.

We tie our horses out front, getting a room above the crowded bar. The sun is low in the sky now, and those who have worked hard for the day have taken to drinking their way to the bottom of a bottle. We push past drunkards and a table of well dressed gentlemen playing a heated game of poker. The ragtime piano continues to play as we walk up the stairs toward our room.

Arthur collapses on the bed and falls asleep instantly, leaving me to handle Sean, who's decided to direct his constant chatter over to me. I almost feel the need to wake up Arthur, for leaving me with Sean. But I feel bad for Arthur. He must have to handle this chattering whelp every day. How the hell does he handle all this?

“Sean,” I start, my teeth clenching hard from under the half smile I throw his way. He stops and returns the smile. “Shut up.” I say through a palpably fake smile, slipping my coat off my drooping shoulders, and slinking to the floor. I use my coat as a blanket, and settle myself onto the worn carpet. I close my eyes, praying that the illusion of me being asleep will get sean to finally leave me alone. Apparently no such luck was with me. I can still feel Sean’s heated gaze on my features. I open one eye, and find Sean leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest and his thumbs looped over the top of his underarms.

“You sure you want to be in here with this snorin’ bastard?”

I suppress a halfhearted smile as Sean continues, “I’m headed to the bar, care to join me?”

“Sorry, I don’t drink.” I state bluntly, re-adjusting my coat over my curled up body. That's a lie. I used to drink, but being on the run from bounty hunters didn’t leave much room for not being sober.

“Sure,” He says sarcastically. “I’ll be down ‘ere if you change your mind.” He flashes me a cheeky smile before turning around and leaving, shutting the door behind him. I’m left with my thoughts and the loud snoring of Arthur. I focus my attention on him, smirking as I recount what Sean called him. The ragtime tune and inebriated cackles echo through the aching wooden floorboards beneath me, and I find myself staring at the closed door with a contemplative look. It's been a great while since I've felt this safe. I've been on the run for years, always moving in fear someone was on my tail. But now at least I'm not alone. This is the first time in a long time I've settled down anywhere or with anyone, apart from Brutus. I don't have to be so cautious anymore, right? So terrified of being caught? Maybe, maybe I can finally be a part of something good. Part of a group I can really trust. Who overlook my sins and treat me like one of their own.

I take a deep breath and rise to my feet, tossing my jacket on the chair and walking over to the door, my hand hovering over the iron handle. I give one last look at the snoring Arthur, before heading downstairs to the bar.

_2 hours later…_

The bright full moon peeked through the curtains and reached Arthur's sleeping face. The light itched open his eyes and he awoke in the usual blurry haze, grumbling an incoherent phrase and wiping away the drool from the corner of his mouth. He rubbed at his eyes, and then glanced over the dark room. Sean and Viper weren't there. Arthur relished the idea of finally being alone; without having to bear the annoying Irish bastard who was stupid enough to get himself captured. Arthur was still quite grumpy that he was the one who had to go save him from his own mess.

Or Viper, Lord knows what kind of hell she was raising. But Arthur recounts the fiery eyed brunette who accompanied him. Stubborn, unpredictable, dangerous at some times. Even though he didn't really have a reason to trust her, nor did he want to trust her, she did in fact save his life. And she still hasn't given much effort to escape now, when there were plenty of painfully convenient opportunities to do so.

Arthur scratched his stubble, taking notice of the familiar jacket on the chair. He stares for a moment, before swearing to himself and sitting up. He stands, cracking his neck and adjusting his belt buckle. Sleep no longer presented itself as an available option. The ruckus from down below would keep him from it, no doubt. Considering it's much more lively around this time of night. And with the two of them gone, there's no knowing what trouble they've gotten themselves into.

Arthur lets out an aggravated sigh and opens the door, pulling it hard closed behind him. He avoids eye contact with the ginger bath assistant flirtatiously waving at him as he walks past. He walks down the stairs as the noise grows louder and louder, until he can no longer hear himself think. He catches sight of four men in a heated game of poker, poorly dressed woman hanging off the arms of a clearly drunk and giddy man flaunting his money about. The bar is busy with men ordering more and more drinks to inhale, the ragtime piano player himself seems to be under the influence as his songs seems almost unrecognizable.

Arthur shakes his head, knowing he acted just the same way not too long ago at the bar in Valentine with Lenny. He barely remembered anything except the splitting headache and the burning vomit that came right after.

But amidst all that, a small crowd has formed around something that men desperately try to see. Arthur knits his eyebrows together as he approaches the visibly excited men barely holding onto the bottles in their hands. Arthur pushes past the men, slowing to a stop when he sees just what everybody was looking at.

"What in the hell," Arthur mutters. There stood Viper. Her hair a wild mess, her cheeks flushed, and an uneven smile playing at her lips. Arthur's eyes landed on the knife she held ready in her hand. Before he could stop her, the knife flung across the room with an audible sing, landing right next to the head of a very drunk Sean. The crowd cheers, clinking drinks and chugging down beer. Others groan, swearing and begrudgingly handing money to a giddy Sean. Viper proudly smiles at the crowd as they continue to cheer her on, and bows as if she just performed a dangerous circus act.

"What the hell are you two doing?" Arthur hisses, as soon as the crowd has dispersed. Viper's gleaming eyes lock onto to Arthur's, and she stumbles over to him. She trips on her foot and Arthur catches her with two forearms hooked under her arms, and lifting her back up a bit to help balance herself. Her hands rest on his chest, as she looks up at him, barely able to keep her eyes open.

_Just how much did she drink?_ Arthur thinks to himself. _It's like she's a completely different person._

Her mouth opens as if to say something, but all that comes out is a loud burp. Arthur nose scrunches up in disgust as he gets a whiff of beer. He gets ready to scold her but his shoulders tense as she wraps her arms around him, her head sinking into his neck. Arthur tries to pry her off of him but it seems she's fast asleep.

"She's earning us money, Arthur," Sean approaches, a stupidly proud smile on his face, "Look at this!" He shows off the many bills in his hands.

"Give me that." Arthur snatches the money from Sean with his free hand, his other wrapper firmly around Vipers waist so she doesn't fall from the floor. He stuffs it in the back pocket of Viper's jeans.

"Ah, right. So I nearly died for nothin'..." Sean mumbles.

"Just get the hell up the stairs, you're lucky I don't kill you myself." Arthur grunts as he throws the limp Viper over his shoulder. Sean obeys and heads for the stairs, mumbling to himself as he walks past. "At least I can hold my liquor…"

Moments later Sean topples over with a thud against the floor, but sloppily recovers and begins to crawl up the stairs on all fours. Arthur rolls his eyes, following Sean up the stairs. It requires little effort to carry Viper, which isn't surprising considering she's such a little lady. Arthur is surprised she hasn't passed out until now, considering how many drinks she must of chugged down. Arthur can't help but suppress a smile.

A hand wraps around the handle of the knife stuck into the wall, pulling it out with ease. He stares at the girl being carried away, her familiar features peeking out from her swaying hair.

He looks down at the knife, his thumb tracing the metal engraved Viper, a smile growing on his features, "Found you."

He slips the knife into his pocket and casually walks out of the bar, towards his horse tied up at the post. He eyes the black stallion next to his, only confirming his suspicions. He rides out of town, far away from Blackwater. Away from a certain girl who's spent her whole life running from trouble, only to soon find it again.

*

Sean slips out when Arthur's not looking, probably looking to earn some money for himself, but he'll most likely just get himself into more trouble. Arthur carefully places Viper down on the bed, putting her head down last. He smirks looking down at her, knowing just how sick she'll be in the morning. She'll certainly regret drinking so much.

He takes a seat beside her, the bed creaking at his weight. She turns her head ever so slightly at the sound, allowing Arthur a better look at her sleek features. She looked so peaceful. Compared to her wild self he saw mere minutes ago. He stood there watching her maybe a little too long. There was something about her smile from earlier. She looked so happy, so free. As if nothing in the world could bring her down. And when she locked eyes with Arthur, with her bright and gleaming eyes, he swore, if only for a split second, his heart fluttered. He never took the time to truly look at her. Her skin was soft, her lips slightly cracked, her nose small yet pointed, her eyelashes long and matching the color of her restless brown curls sprawled on the pillow. Her chest rises slowly up and down, and Arthur found her breathing comforting. She was beautiful. Too beautiful for this kind of life.

His eyes land on the scar on her upper arm. It was deep, but clearly has been there for many years. Before he could stop himself, he found his fingers slowly tracing the scar. The rough skin, and for some reason, his chest felt tight, as he wondered what or **who** did this to her.

He recoils as Viper snaps awake, her eyes alert and horrified. She scrambled to the other side of the bed, trying to get away from the confused Arthur as much as she could. She was trembling. Trembling with fear.

"S-Sorry…" Arthur murmurs, standing to his feet.

But she didn't say anything. It didn't seem like she heard him. Her mind was somewhere else, her eyes focused on one point as if she were trapped in a nightmare. She gripped at her hair and pulled tight, bringing her knees to her chest. She seemed to be mumbling something to herself. Arthur knitted his eyebrows together, and walked around the bed to her side.

"Viper?" He said, sitting next to her. She took no notice of him. He noticed her knuckles turning white from gripping so hard.

He frowned, attempting to place a hand on hers. "Don't touch me!" She screamed, snapping her head towards Arthur. Her eyes saw someone else. They were filled with such hatred, but at the same time sadness. He had a feeling it had something to do with her scar.

After a second, her features softened, and her eyes were now overwhelmed with confusion as she stared at Arthur. "Arthur?" She gasped, in disbelief. She shook her head, looking away. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't know what came over me, usually I'm not like this…"

"Nightmare?" Arthur inquired.

"I wish…" She whispered, but loud enough for him to hear. Arthur could still see the pain in her eyes as she stared blankly at the wall. She was reliving a memory. A bad one. Arthur cleared his throat, _better not to remind her of it._

"You should get some sleep. You'll feel better in the morning."

Lies. She would still have a bad hangover. She probably won't remember this even happened either, and Arthur hopes she won't. It would be pretty awkward between them, and Arthur doesn't do awkward.

"Yeah… that sounds good." She crawls under the blanket, pulling it up to her neck. She faces away from him, "Arthur?" She speaks.

"Hmm?"

"Will you… lay by me? I don't want to be alone," Her voice was breaking with every word that came out of her mouth.

Arthur stared at the back of her head for a moment. His lips perked ever so slightly before answering, "Yeah, course'."

Arthur walks to the other side of the bed, slowly laying down on it. He lays on his back, looking up at the ceiling. The shadows of the lit lantern dance across it. Arthur crosses his hands over his chest. It's been a while since he laid with a woman. And not in the way he would of expected.

"Just to warn ya', I'm a pretty loud snorer." He clears his throat, hoping to dismiss the awkward silence. He glances over at the little lady, frowning when he sees a single tear glide down her face and sink into the pillow.

"I… don't mind…" She mumbles. And with that, she drifts into a peaceful sleep, with a certain cowboy watching over her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update. Me and Luna sort of lost the inspiration for this story, because that happens sometimes. I do have a plan for how this story will plan out, so it's not completely a lost cause, but I can't guarentee future updates. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, my dudes. And Luna, it's been fun writing this with you. I've gotten a new friend writing this, and I'm glad. 
> 
> Love you all, milknhoney02 ♡

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment! We thrive on your feedback! 
> 
> CoCreator - LunaTantabus


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